


Late Night Love

by Love2Slash



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angry Harvey, Caring Harvey, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Vulnerable Mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love2Slash/pseuds/Love2Slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harvey is angry when his associate, Mike Ross, keeps disturbing his sleep with ridiculous, rambling late night phone calls.  Just what the hell is going on, and what is Harvey going to do about it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Love

"Hey, it – it's me. I know I shouldn't really be calling you like this, but … uh, well, I wanted to tell you something. Something really important."

Harvey frowns as he listens back to his voicemail messages. This one, from his associate, Mike Ross, is tucked between a raft of other messages about various transcripts and depositions, and had been recorded at 3.01 this morning. Harvey knows this is the exact time of the call, because he's already checked it twice in disbelief. Thank God his phone was switched off.

"Yeah, so, I know I shouldn't really be calling you –" Mike's voice mumbles on in his ear.

"You're damn right about that," Harvey mutters to himself. "You're either drunk, kid, or you're stoned or both. What the hell?"

"- but … I – I wanted you to know how I feel. I mean how I really, _really_ feel, deep down inside …"

Harvey's frown deepens as he leans back in his office chair. "Get to the point already!" he gripes. He wonders if Mike is _always_ this useless with the women he dates. If he is, then it's no wonder he so rarely has a smile on his face. For God's sake, he can't even dial the right person's number. 

"This isn't even meant for me, you idiot," Harvey mutters crossly, and if he's honest, somewhat jealously. "What have you done? Hit me on speed dial by accident when you've really meant to phone Rachel or Jenny or whatever her name is this week?"

"Because … because … ahh, I'm sorry, so sorry."

Abruptly, the recording cuts off, and Harvey first shakes his head and then rolls his eyes. 

Later that morning, Harvey stands in the doorway of the bullpen, his hands in his pockets as he watches Mike, whose ear buds are tucked in tight as he works, the lid of a highlighter pen gripped between his teeth as his eyes whip swiftly through page after page. _He looks tired,_ Harvey thinks, observing the dark semi-circles under Mike's eyes. _Hardly surprising if he stays up all night making ridiculous lovesick phone calls._ He also takes note of the empty Red Bull cans littering Mike's workspace, and he wonders whether the kid ate breakfast or not. _Not_ was the most likely answer, according to Donna's endlessly evolving list of information about everyone and everything around her.

"Did you know that he often forgets to eat when he's working?" she'd asked him once, not long after he'd first hired Mike, and he'd frowned at her, wondering why she'd thought he'd care about something as trivial as that. 

Little had he known he'd end up caring so much, or that he'd spend so much energy trying to hide the fact.

"Hey, Mike," he calls briskly now, adopting his best business-like demeanour as he approaches his associate's cubicle. Mike, engrossed in both his work and the droning beat of the music in his ears, doesn't hear him or, in fact, even notice him at first, so Harvey leans over him from behind and taps him sharply on the shoulder. "Hey, rookie, you okay?" he asks.

"Uh?" Mike pulls out his earphones and looks around in annoyance, but when he sees it's Harvey, he straightens up a little and removes the highlighter lid from his mouth. "Oh, er, sorry," he says, running his fingers through the messy spikes of his hair, as if trying to flatten them all back down and put them into some sort of order. "I was miles away then. What did you say?"

As he looks down at Mike, Harvey has a notion that as well as appearing tired, his associate's face is looking thinner, his jawline a whole lot sharper, and he wonders if maybe Donna's right after all, and the kid really doesn't eat properly while he's at work.

"I asked you if you were okay," he says, as he perches himself on the edge of Mike's desk.

"What?" The question clearly takes Mike by surprise. After all, since when did Harvey ever ask him if he was okay? "Yeah, I'm fine," he replies, frowning, which in Harvey's opinion just makes him look even more exhausted. "Why do you ask?"

Now it's Harvey's turn to be surprised. He'd expected Mike to blush, to stutter a hasty apology, or at least to hang his head in shame, but there are no signs of embarrassment in the younger man's face or voice at all, nothing, in fact, to indicate that he regretted having rung his boss's cell phone at three o'clock that morning. 

"Anything you want to tell me?" Harvey asks pointedly. "Any apologies or confessions that might be weighing heavily on your mind?" 

Mike's eyes widen and his frown deepens, although these things in themselves can hardly be taken as admissions of guilt. Harvey actually thinks Mike looks more confused than anything else.

"Er, no?" the younger man replies, shaking his head. "I don't think so. Why, is there something wrong? Something I should've done? Or - or … _shouldn't_ have done? Is there a deadline I've missed? A meeting?"

To Harvey, Mike sounds nervous, but his worries are clearly work-related and nothing to do with that phone call he'd made, and Harvey wonders now if maybe Mike had been so out of it when he'd made that call that he doesn't even remember making it at all. Or maybe he does remember, but has no idea he'd reached the wrong number? 

This kind of sloppy behaviour, Harvey finds worrying.

"How long will this paperwork take you?" he asks, gesturing to the stack of folders in the tray at Mike's elbow, completely ignoring all of Mike's questions. He watches as Mike throws him a worried glance, then leans back and scans the folders with his eyes, and for a moment he's almost sure he can hear the calculations whirring away inside his young associate's head.

"One hour, forty minutes," Mike replies, shrugging his shoulders. "Two hours tops."

Harvey glances at his watch. "Okay," he says. "So if I swing by here at 12.30 you'll be ready to go to lunch?"

"Oh, um, yeah, sure," Mike replies, still frowning and wondering if he's heard correctly. Harvey has never invited him to lunch before. It makes him feel a little bit scared, but also rather excited.

Lunch, however, consists of a quick visit to the hotdog cart outside their office building, then on to grab a couple of coffees at the stand a little further down the street. Mike stands rather awkwardly next to Harvey, his hot dog in one hand and coffee in the other as they both eat in silence. 

"You okay, Mike?" Harvey eventually asks him, after wedging the last bite of his hotdog bun into his mouth with his fingers and chomping it down vigorously.

"That's the second time you've asked me that today," Mike says as he scrunches up his paper napkin before tossing it into a nearby garbage can. "Maybe I should be asking you if _you're_ the one who's okay?" He tries a tentative smile but loses it when Harvey just seems to glare at him, so instead he drops his eyes and takes a large gulp of his coffee.

"You're funny," Harvey says mirthlessly. As always, he's having to fight to suppress his feelings when it comes to Mike – it's always hard to discuss anything remotely personal without feeling he's getting too involved. This time, though, he decides to take the plunge. "So tell me," he says without further ado, "how's your love life these days, anyway?"

At that, Mike spontaneously splutters some of his coffee straight back into its paper cup. "How's my what now?" he asks, coughing, his eyes wide in surprise.

"You know," Harvey says, trying hard to sound conversational and not even the slightest bit jealous. "Who is it you're seeing at the moment? That blonde girl still? Or is the thing back on again with Rachel?"

"I thought you didn't care about my personal life?" Mike reminds him. After all, Harvey has informed him of this fact on countless occasions before today. "I thought you said you only care about whether I make you look even more awesome than you already are?"

Harvey briefly weighs up this statement, tipping his head first one way and then the other. "Hmm, that's true, I did say that," he admits, "but I guess it's different when something in your associate's personal life is affecting his work."

"Harvey, there's nothing wrong with my work," Mike indignantly protests. "God, I stayed at my desk until midnight last Friday to proof those briefs for the Harper Greene merger, and didn't I also find that loophole you were looking for in the Robinson case, and – "

"Yeah, yeah, okay hotshot," Harvey interrupts, holding up a hand. "I take your point. Your work is fine."

"Fine?" Mike questions incredulously. "You invited me out to lunch to tell me my work is _fine?_ "

"No, actually," Harvey then snaps. "I invited you out to ask if you were okay because of that phone call –"

At this, Mike's eyebrows shoot up even higher. "What phone call?" he demands. "Is this to do with that douchebag Kyle Durant? Has he complained about me? Because he totally deserved what he got, you know. That guy's a total dick, Harvey. Do you know what he said to Rachel? Well, do you?"

Harvey sighs deeply and shakes his head, both as an answer to Mike's question, and also because this mentoring process is a hell of a lot harder than Jessica always made it look when she'd been mentoring him. Okay, so he'd already tried dropping the same puppy analogy on the kid that Jessica had always used on him, but cleaning up the messes the puppy makes is hard work sometimes, and that's when it's within the confines of work, never mind outside it. Another problem for Harvey, of course, is that while it would be highly inappropriate for him to ever pet the puppy and take it home with him, he often thinks about doing it.

"Look, just forget I said anything," he says, backtracking, not only with his words but also with his feet. As far as he's concerned, this mentoring session is over, and so he heads swiftly down the street and back towards the office, leaving Mike staring after him in worried consternation. 

That afternoon, though, Harvey's mind keeps straying back to one particular image: that of Mike's blue eyes, round and indignant when he'd thought that Harvey had been questioning the quality of his work. Of course Harvey hadn't been doing that at all: he absolutely knew how hard Mike worked and would even go as far as to say he was frequently proud of him, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone but Donna. 

"It's a big risk," she'd told him, when she'd finally learned the full extent of Harvey's deception as far as Mike's situation was concerned. "What if Jessica finds out?"

"She won't," Harvey had confidently replied.

"But what if she does?"

Harvey had given what he'd hoped would come across as a noncommittal shrug. "Then I guess I'll have to fire him." 

Donna, of course, had not been fooled. "You won't be firing this kid," she'd told him with a knowing smirk. "I've seen the way you gaze at him when you think no one else is looking."

"I do _not_ gaze at him," he'd retorted indignantly. 

"Oh, but you do," she'd taunted, her dark eyes flashing. 

"Donna, stop it," he'd warned.

But of course he'd known _exactly_ what she'd meant, just as he'd already known that if Mike ever _did_ get fired, and it would have to be Jessica doing the firing because he certainly wasn't going to be the one doing it himself, then Harvey would most likely be following his associate straight out of the door.

That night, Harvey can't stop thinking about Mike and his ridiculous, rambling phone call, and he grimaces at his own equally unsuccessful attempts to get to the point of their conversation. It's not something Harvey usually has a problem with – he usually goes straight for the jugular – but work is one thing, and talking about personal matters is entirely another.

Especially with Mike.

For a short time, maybe even for as long as five minutes or so, he considers calling Mike and trying to talk to him again. He even goes so far as to pull Mike's number up on his cell, but then he sighs and throws the phone onto his nightstand before climbing into bed.

It feels like he's only been asleep for a short while when Harvey's jerked awake by his phone beginning to ring. With a groan, he realises he's forgotten to put it on silent, and he curses as he rolls over to check the time. 

3am.

He's reluctant to answer the call until he reaches for the phone and sees the display lit up with _Mike Ross calling …_ and he has to admit that he's more than a little curious, despite his irritation, and also he doesn't particularly want Mike to leave him another long-winded, embarrassing message on his voicemail either. 

"Yo, Mike," he barks into the phone after stabbing the answer button so hard he almost breaks a nail. "Do you know what time it is, buddy? Time to get a little shut-eye, don't you think?"

He expects Mike to either gasp, apologise, say, "Oh fuck, wrong number," or just plain old hang up.

Instead there's only silence.

"Mike?"

Still silence.

"Look, Mike," Harvey snaps, his temper quickly getting the better of him. "I don't know what the hell you think you're playing at with this, but we both have work in the morning and seeing as I left a particularly huge stack of briefs on your desk before I went home last night, I suggest you forget about your ridiculous love life, get some sleep and I'll see you when you're done with those briefs. Good night." And with that he hangs up and switches his phone off altogether before slinging it back onto the nightstand.

In the morning he's tired and grouchy, and no amount of caffeine will drive away his lethargy. Unable to contain his irritation, he marches down to the bullpen. "Hey, Romeo," he bawls across the room at Mike, causing numerous heads to jerk in his direction. "Would you mind keeping your late night love calls to yourself in future, instead of dragging me into your soap opera car-crash of a love life?"

He expects a smart-mouthed remark back, but Mike just gapes at him in shock and then puts his head down in embarrassment as the other associates turn to stare at him, and to be fair, Harvey isn't really that surprised when the kid doesn't come anywhere near him for the rest of the day. 

"You shouldn't have spoken to Mike like that, you know," Donna tells him later, a stern frown on her face. "Especially not in public. Rachel said he was really upset."

"Upset about what?" Harvey spits, more irked than he cares to admit by the mention of Rachel's name in the same breath as Mike's. "And what's with this _Aunt Donna_ routine all of a sudden anyway? It really doesn't suit you, you know."

Donna winces in an exaggerated fashion, the way she sometimes does when she thinks he's said something particularly insensitive or crass. "I don't know what's going on between you two," she says pointedly, folding her arms in disapproval, "but that thing you said to Mike was totally out of order." 

"What thing?" he says. He's really starting to get annoyed now. Well, _more_ annoyed anyway, if that's even possible.

"That thing, which incidentally you bellowed in front all the associates, where you compared his love life to a car crash. Not the most tactful thing to say to someone who lost his parents in such tragic circumstances, is it? And you do know that next week is the anniversary of their deaths?"

A warm flush begins to steal its way up over his neck at this, and Harvey stuffs his hands into his pockets as he guiltily drops his eyes. "Oh," he says eventually.

"Yes, _oh_ ," she scolds him. 

"Well, you know I don't usually need to consider whether I'm being particularly tactful or not," he says in his defense.

"Doesn't mean you don't need to apologize," Donna counters. "Besides, this is _Mike_ we're talking about. I thought you had more respect for him than that? Cared for him, even?"

"Look, I didn't know about the anniversary, okay?" is all he'll admit to, as he works hard to keep the apologetic whine out of his voice.

"Even so," she says heavily, turning away as she heads back to her desk, "you owe him an apology, Harvey."

Despite those ridiculous late night phone calls, Harvey sighs as he admits to himself that she's probably right, even though saying sorry isn't remotely his style. Nevertheless, when Mike later fails to make an appearance in his office that afternoon with the briefs he'd been assigned, Harvey saunters down to the bullpen.

Mike, however, isn't there, although he's left a detailed report, addressed to Harvey, on top of the pile of completed folders on his desk.

"He wasn't feeling very well," Louis informs him rather brusquely, "particularly after your 'outburst'. He insisted on finishing proofing these briefs for you, but then I sent him home. Actually, he didn't look too good even before that, so don't blame yourself entirely."

"Oh, I won't," Harvey says smoothly. "I'll blame you for not sending him home sooner."

Louis shoots Harvey a withering look, his top lip curling with distaste. "Well, regarding what you said to Mr Ross," he spits out, "you do know that this week is the anniversary of – "

"Yeah, I know," Harvey snaps back crossly over his shoulder as he leaves.

If Harvey feels a sharp pang of guilt, either about his earlier tactlessness, or the fact that he seems to be the only one who didn't actually know about the anniversary, he's glad he didn't give Louis the satisfaction of letting it show on his face, and even though he does think about calling Mike, or at least texting him, he later decides against it. Donna had told him he needed to apologise, and for a while he decides he definitely will, but later, as he prepares for bed, he thinks it would probably be just as easy to leave it and pretend nothing had ever happened. More than that, he's hoping that Mike will feel the same, and that they can just forget about it all and go on just as before.

Harvey doesn't sleep well that night. It takes him a long time to get comfortable and settled, especially as he keeps thinking about the shocked expression on Mike's face as he'd bawled at him across the bullpen. Finally, he falls into a light and fretful sleep, but then he awakens later to the irritating sound of his cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. Annoyed that yet again he's forgotten to completely switch it off, he gropes for it, and as he squints at it in the dark, he isn't at all surprised to see the name _Mike Ross_ flashing up on the display. He checks the time, and seeing as it's another rude awakening at precisely 3am, he decides that at this unearthly hour, there's really only a tiny part of him that still feels guilty about his tactless 'car-crash' remark after all. 

"Look, you can't keep on doing this, Mike," he warns, sitting up and running a hand irritably over his tired eyes. "I'm sorry about what I said to you yesterday, but seriously, if there's something you want to say to me, then please just say it, but if you're pranking me for the fun of it, then hell, I'm really not finding it funny anymore." 

He waits but there's nothing.

"Mike?" Harvey listens intently and for a few moments there's still only silence, but then Harvey is sure he can hear Mike licking his lips and swallowing at the other end of the line, as if he's working himself up to being able to say something, and the line positively crackles with tension.

"Mike?" Harvey whispers. 

Nothing at first, but then he thinks he hears a sigh, or maybe a moan. He can't tell which.

"Mike, are you okay?"

The line goes dead but when Harvey immediately tries to call him back, Mike doesn't pick up, and shaking his head in frustration, he lies awake for over an hour before drifting back into an uncomfortable and unsettled sleep.

 

The next day, Mike doesn't show up for work at all.

"He's still sick," Rachel informs him, when a tired and bleary-eyed Harvey enquires as to his associate's whereabouts.

"I suppose you'll be running round there with some chicken soup later on then?" he snaps. Rachel looks at him in surprise at his harsh tone, and so he hastily tries to cover his jealous tracks. "It's just that we can't have too many people out of the office at one time," he explains rather unconvincingly.

"Actually, I went round to see him last night," she says, eyeing him doubtfully. "In my own time though, not the firm's, I might add."

"And?" he demands stiffly.

"And what?"

"How was he?"

"Well, I don't know really. He wouldn’t let me in."

Harvey is somewhat taken aback by this information, although his expression never wavers.

"Why not?" he questions.

Rachel shrugs her narrow shoulders. "I guess he didn't feel up to visitors," she says. "Look, Mr Specter," she adds after a moment's thought. "I hope you don't think I'm talking out of turn here, but about what you said to Mike yesterday –"

"Save it, Rachel."

"But –"

"But nothing." 

And with that, Harvey, certainly not in the mood for another lecture, turns sharply on his heel and walks away.

That night when his phone rings at 3am, Harvey is more prepared. "Mike," he answers curtly as he presses the phone to his ear. "Whatever you've got to say to me, you need to quit stalling and come and say it to my face. Agreed?"

"Uh … I … " Mike answers, although his voice sounds confused. 

"What is it?" Harvey questions, impatient already, despite his good intentions. "You don't want to? Well, you're gonna have to, because I'm standing outside your apartment door right now, so I suggest you come and open it."

After the line predictably cuts off, he waits, but the door doesn't open. In fact there's no movement inside the apartment at all.

"Mike!" Harvey shouts angrily as he slams his fist against the door. He hasn't come with the intention of getting mad at all, only wanting to get to the bottom of whatever's going on, but he only has so much patience, particularly when he's so agitated after three consecutive nights of broken sleep. "Will you get your ass over to this door right now and let me in?" he yells. Again there's no reply from Mike, and it's then that Harvey starts to hammer with both his fists on the door, throwing in a kick or two for good measure. "Goddammit, Mike," he yells, "open this fucking door right now before I kick the damn thing off its hinges."

"Hey, hey, what's all this noise?" a man's voice calls out from the stairwell below, harsh and angry from the shadows. "Do you know what fucking time it is, pal?"

"Of course I know," Harvey yells back, leaning over the rail. "But don't blame me. Blame my fucking dick of an employee who won't let me into his apartment."

"Ross? He keeps a spare key on the ledge over the door," the voice helpfully informs him. "Now shut the fuck up and let me get some sleep."

Gritting his teeth angrily, Harvey turns back to the door and reaches up, groping for the promised key, and on finding it, he rams it into the lock, shoves the door open so it swings with a bang back on its hinges and then he barges his way into Mike's apartment before slamming the door shut behind him, regardless of any concern for the man downstairs and his legitimate complaints about the noise. 

Immediately he sees Mike sitting hunched over in the semi-darkness, his phone beside him on the couch. His knees are drawn up to his chest and his arms are clasped tightly around them. He doesn't look up at all at the unexpected intrusion, which only infuriates Harvey even more. 

"Right," he growls, groping for the wall switch and flooding the room with light. "You've got exactly three minutes of my full and undivided attention during which you're going to tell me why you keep calling me in the middle of the night, and then if I'm not satisfied with your answer I'm gonna fire your ass. Now what the hell is it that you think you want to say to me in the middle of the night that you can't say during the day?"

Mike, however, says nothing, just sits there in his bare feet, looking at the floor and wearing nothing but a thin white tee shirt and faded pair of blue paisley-patterned pajama bottoms. He looks even paler than when Harvey last saw him, and the whiteness of his skin in turn accentuates the deep dark smudges under his eyes. 

"Mike, look, I want to help you but you're really starting to piss me off," Harvey says. "What the fuck is wrong with you anyway? Speak to me. At least fucking look at me, Goddammit."

Still Mike says nothing, and then suddenly all the hair on the back of Harvey's neck starts to prickle with the gradual comprehension that although Mike's eyes are wide open, he doesn't actually appear to notice that Harvey is right there in the room with him, and when he lifts his eyes and sighs in Harvey's direction, the older man realises with a shock that Mike isn't actually _seeing_ him, or in fact anything else around him, at all.

"Mike?" Keeping his voice much quieter now, Harvey carefully edges forward as if approaching a skittish cat, and then he slowly waves a hand back and forth in front of his associate's eyes. 

Mike doesn't even flinch so much as a muscle.

"Mike? Mike, can you hear me?" Harvey's tone is infinitely softer now. "Are you okay?"

There's still no reaction.

"Jesus," Harvey mutters under his breath. "No wonder he isn't answering. The kid's still fast asleep."

A cursory glance around the room shows Harvey that nothing has changed much since the last time he was here, and therefore he isn't at all surprised to find that he'd need to clear a pile of laundry aside, as well as other assorted junk, if he wanted to free up a seat in order to join Mike on the couch, so he just hunkers down in front of him instead.

"Mike?" he whispers softly. "Can you hear me?"

Still Mike doesn't speak. He doesn't even acknowledge Harvey's presence at all. 

Harvey shakes his head in awe, glad that at least part of the mystery has been explained – no wonder Mike had no idea why Harvey had been yelling at him if he'd been making those phone calls in his sleep. He wonders what he should do next though. He vaguely remembers reading something about it being dangerous to wake someone up when they were sleep-walking, but whether that was actually true or not, or if this even counts as an episode of sleep-walking, Harvey isn't sure. 

Suddenly though, he has an idea. He stands up and backs away, and as he does so, he pulls his phone from his pocket before speed dialling Mike's number, and although at first he thinks Mike isn't going to answer, after four or five rings, the young man on the couch turns his head dreamily towards the sound and picks up his phone, flicks the answer button with his thumb and slowly lifts it to his ear.

"Hello?" he croaks.

"Hi, Mike," Harvey says, deliberately keeping his voice low and soft. "It's Harvey. How are ya?"

"Oh, oh, er … hi, Harvey," Mike stammers. He sounds nervous and Harvey watches as he puts a hand to his brow. "I – I'm okay, I guess."

"Yeah?" Harvey says. "Well, that's good if you are, but you know, I did wonder if there was anything troubling you. You don't seem yourself lately."

Mike says nothing, although Harvey notices he draws in a deep, shuddering breath before letting it go slowly, as if he's suddenly feeling upset and trying not to show it, and Harvey again feels the unfamiliar pull of guilt wrenching at his gut. He has a thought that maybe this anniversary thing is a much bigger deal than even the likes of Rachel or Donna realise, and what had Harvey been doing while all this was going on in Mike's life? Well, being his usual, thoughtless asshole self, that's what. 

"Mike?" Harvey says. "You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday, and also … " He pauses, looking down at the rug and feeling a complete bastard. "What I said, the – the car crash reference. It must've hurt. I'm sorry."

Looking up then, he thinks he sees a small smile ghost its way onto Mike's lips, although he's not entirely sure.

"Aw, it's okay," Mike assures him, and Harvey breathes his own sigh of relief. "I'm okay, really. My Grammy thinks next week is a real big deal for me, but it's not so bad. It's not like I don't think about them every day anyway."

There's a pause as Harvey considers how to proceed next, and then he decides to go with his hunch. "Is there something else then?" he says at last. "Is there something you've been wanting to say to me, Mike? Something I can help you with? Or have you been trying to talk to someone else and ringing me by mistake?"

He watches with bated breath as Mike licks his lips. "Well, yeah, there _is_ something I wanted to tell you," Mike admits. "Something I've been wanting to tell you for quite a long time now."

"Me?" Harvey asks. "Not ... not Rachel or - somebody else?"

"Yeah, definitely you," Mike replies with certainty. "No-one else." 

"So, what is it then, buddy?"

Mike hesitates, his brow furrowing. "I'm not sure I should actually tell you though. It - it's a secret."

"Look, you know you can trust me, Mike. Whatever it is, you can tell me, okay? And if it's a problem, you know I'll do my best to help you." 

Mike shakes his head, his blue eyes huge and glassy in his pale face. "I know that, Harvey," he says, "but – but I can't."

"Sure you can."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Mike sighs. "Because … because you might get angry at me if I tell you," he whispers into the phone. 

"I won't."

"Do you promise?"

Harvey doesn't like to make promises, just in case he can't keep them, but if he doesn't give Mike the confidence to speak out, he's never going to find out what the hell's bugging the poor kid. Not for the first time, he wonders if this is something to do with Trevor, as it's clearly not just the looming anniversary that's bringing the kid down. Or maybe someone found out about his secret? Whatever it is, it's not just Harvey's curiosity that's been awakened by the situation: he's been fighting his attraction towards Mike practically since he'd first seen him stumble into that damned interview, but seeing him in such a vulnerable position has given him an extra feeling of … what? Protectiveness? Affection? 

_Love?_

"It’s okay, Mike," Harvey reassures him. "Whatever it is, whatever the problem is, we can fix it, I promise. Now just tell me, okay? Tell me what's bothering you. Please."

He waits, alarmed when Mike squeezes his eyes tightly shut and hugs his knees harder. "Well … well, okay then," he whispers. "It – it's you." 

"Me?" Harvey swallows down another sudden rush of guilt. "What have I done, Mike? I said I was sorry about –" 

"You haven't done anything," Mike interrupts, shaking his head. "It's me. It's what I've done."

"Which is?" Harvey asks, confused.

"I – I've fallen in love," Mike whispers. 

Harvey's heart clenches with a sudden, unexpected and crushing sense of disappointment. "With Rachel?" he asks heavily.

"What?" Mike frowns and shakes his head. "No, of course not with Rachel," he says. "She's just a friend."

"Then - then who?"

"You," Mike whispers, and then immediately he lets out a long shuddery breath, clearly relieved to be finally getting his secret out into the open. Harvey, meanwhile, sucks in a sharp breath of his own as he almost drops his phone in shock. 

When there's no immediate response from the other man, Mike's forehead creases in an anxious frown, and he bites down nervously on his lower lip. "You're mad at me, aren't you?" he whispers fearfully. "I knew you would be. This is why I didn't want to tell you."

"What?" Harvey is finally shaken into a response. "God, Mike, no, no, of course I'm not mad at you. Far from it, actually."

"Are you sure," Mike moans fretfully. "I shouldn't have told you though. I knew you wouldn't like it. I knew you'd – "

"Hey, hey Mike, it's okay," Harvey interrupts. "I'm not mad at all. In fact, I'm really glad you told me."

Mike lets out another shuddering breath, and he collapses limply back against the sofa as the tension visibly drains from his body. Harvey, meanwhile, watches him, feeling dazed, shocked and confused, but at the same time totally elated. Eventually he manages to gather his own thoughts and he presses his phone more firmly to his ear. "Mike?" he says softly. "First, I just want to say that I'm absolutely fine with this, okay? Really I am. But is it all right if I ask you something? Because I'm just wondering why you didn't tell me about all this before." 

Mike shrugs. "I – I didn't dare," he confesses in a whisper. His eyes are still glazed, still glassy, and he's still very obviously fast asleep. Harvey though, wants answers.

"Why not?" he presses.

Mike suddenly blushes. "Well, you know," he says.

"No," Harvey tells him, deliberately keeping his voice soft. "I don't know. Tell me."

"Because - because you're Harvey Specter, you're the best closer in the city," Mike tells him. "You're handsome and so cool and just so … so … " Harvey watches as Mike waves his hand in the air demonstratively, first high then low. "You're just so _up there_ compared to me being _down here,_ " he says. "Why would someone like you ever be interested in a nobody like me?"

"A nobody?" Harvey repeats incredulously, and as he does so he shakes his head in disbelief. "Do you want to know what I really think of you, Mike?"

Mike hesitates, but then he whispers, "Yeah."

"The truth," Harvey begins, fighting to keep his voice calm and steady, "is that you completely and utterly dazzle me. Seriously, Mike, you're the single most beautiful, bravest, most honest person I've ever met in my life. I think you're amazing."

At that, a small, shy smile begins to form on Mike's lips. "Really?" he says.

"Really," Harvey confirms with a small smile of his own. He feels an urge to sink down in front of Mike again now, to take him into his arms and hold him tightly and kiss all his worries and doubts away, but he knows he can't risk waking him up. Instead, he has another idea, and as he glances at his wristwatch and sees it's a little after four he says, "Listen, Mike, here's what you're gonna do, okay? I'm gonna sort everything out and make things right between us, but right now you're gonna go back to bed and sleep, and when you wake up tomorrow, you're gonna feel so much better. You will, believe me."

"I will?"

"You will," Harvey confirms. "Now go on, go and get in bed now. You need to sleep. And I want you to stay home tomorrow and rest, okay? You're looking tired, really tired. Get plenty of rest and don't even think about coming into work until Friday."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. But eat as well, okay? Eat and rest, and no more worrying about anything any more. And no more late night phone calls. Promise me?"

"I promise, Harvey."

"What do you promise?"

"That I'll stay home tomorrow and eat and rest, and no more late night phone calls."

"Good boy," Harvey says warmly. "Now go and get in bed and go to sleep." 

"I will, Harvey. G'night."

"Good night, Mike."

Harvey then watches as Mike ends the call and unfurls his legs before standing up and drifting silently and obediently towards his bed. He lays his cell phone on the nightstand, pulls back the duvet, climbs in and lies down, and then within seconds of closing his eyes, he appears to fall into a deep, peaceful and very normal-looking sleep.

 

When Mike arrives at his cubicle on Friday morning, having spent the whole of Thursday resting comfortably at home and mostly sleeping, he finds there's a yellow Post-it note stuck to the middle of his computer screen, bearing a scribbled message in Harvey's handwriting. 

_Come straight to my office as soon as you get in,_ it says.

As usual, any message from Harvey sounds like a summons, and despite his relatively new yet unexplained feeling of well-being, Mike's heart immediately sinks as he hurries towards Donna's desk and raises his eyebrows at her. 

"Why does he want to see me so early?" he questions anxiously. "Have I done something wrong? I'm not late for a meeting, am I? I mean, I know I'm a couple of days adrift but … I'm sure Harvey said I could have an extra day off yesterday, but … um …" He doesn't usually have to search his memory for information and he frowns as he feels the unfamiliar tug on his brain. "Well, actually I don't even know _how_ I know that, which is weird now I come to think about it, but, well, he knows I went home sick the other day, right? Louis did let him know? And Donna, what – "

"Mike, calm down," she says, cutting in smoothly. "You aren't late for anything and you haven't done anything wrong. He just wants to see you, that's all. Now go on," she says, shooing him off with her perfectly manicured hand. "In you go."

At the glass doors to Harvey's office, Mike hovers uncertainly, still unsure, but then Harvey sees him and beckons him in with a wave of his hand.

"Hi, Mike," he says pleasantly. "I hope you're feeling a bit better today. You managed to get some rest at home I take it?"

"Er … yeah, actually," Mike replies. "Thanks, I did." Harvey is being far too cheerful though, and it makes him wary. "I'll catch up on all my work today though," he promises fervently. "I have a few things to do for Louis first, but –"

"Fruit juice?" Harvey asks him politely. 

"Excuse me?" Mike's eyes are wide and unblinking as he stares curiously at the cardboard tray of drinks Harvey suddenly produces from his desk drawer.

"To drink?" Harvey says, gesturing towards the chair facing him. "Fruit juice? Or I can have Donna bring you a coffee."

"Er," Mike says, sitting down uncertainly. "No, juice is fine. Thanks."

"Have you eaten this morning?"

"Uh, no?" Mike says guiltily, the tone of his voice rising. He has no idea why he feels guilty though. He never usually eats breakfast, although he thinks maybe he would have done if there'd been any food left in the house. He'd eaten everything he'd had in yesterday when he'd woken up at two in the afternoon feeling ravenously hungry. Eyeing Harvey now, he feels nervous but conversely happy at the same time. It's a very strange feeling.

"You gotta eat, Mike," Harvey tells him, leaning forward and pushing a large paper sack across the desk towards him. "I want you start taking better care of yourself from now on. How about a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel? They're delicious. Or would you prefer a donut? Breakfast," he adds, as Mike's eyebrows arch quizzically.

"Oh, er, I'll have a bagel then, thank you," Mike says, reaching politely into the bag then pushing it back and watching as his boss delves a hand into it himself. "But Harvey," he questions. "I - I don't understand. Why are we having breakfast in your office?"

Harvey takes an enthusiastic lion-sized bite of his own bagel. "Why shouldn't we be having breakfast in my office?" he replies with his mouth full. "You know, sometimes we need to take a leap and do something we wouldn't normally do."

Still mildly confused, Mike shakes his head as he unwraps his bagel and then he takes a wary bite, chewing slowly, almost as if he expects it to be poisoned. Once he starts eating, however, he's suddenly surprised at just how much enjoys it.

Satisfied as he watches Mike eat, Harvey thinks back to the phone call he'd made yesterday, to Mike's grandmother Edith, or Grammy as Mike always calls her, and of how, when he'd explained about the phone calls, she'd told him about the problems she'd had with Mike as a child. "I used to hear him as a small boy," she'd said. "He'd sleep-walk to the phone in the night, and then he'd be on it for an hour at a time, crying to his mom and dad about how much he loved them and missed them. It used to break my heart."

"But he hasn't done it since?" Harvey had wanted to know. "As an adult?"

"Not that I know of," she'd replied anxiously. "I know it's the anniversary coming up next week, but there must be something else on his mind for him to be doing this kind of thing again."

"Please don't worry," Harvey had told her. "I've got this. I'm going to take care of it, I promise."

Take care of _him,_ is what he'd wanted to say.

Now, as he watches Mike munching on his breakfast, he starts to notice the way the other man's eyes constantly flick over towards him, stealing little glances, especially when he thinks Harvey isn't looking. Harvey catches him out eventually, holding his eye in a steady, appreciative gaze, and then Mike looks down and blushes a little, which amuses Harvey greatly. He's seen those looks before of course, on many occasions in fact, but he hasn't ever recognised them for what they actually are. He wonders idly if Donna ever catches Mike watching him like this, the way Donna has accused him of looking at – no, _gazing_ she'd said – at Mike, and he concludes that she very probably has.

"Well, you'd better get back to your work, I suppose," Harvey eventually says, and with great reluctance, although not until he's satisfied that Mike has enough nutrition inside him to get him through the rest of the morning. "I saw that stack of briefs Louis dumped on your desk," he says, "but later on, tonight, after work, we'll go for a drink shall we, just you and me? Maybe a meal too, if you'd like to, and we’ll take things from there, okay?"

"Um, yeah, okay," Mike says slowly, both nodding and frowning uncertainly as he stands, but when he reaches the door, he turns back. "Er, Harvey," he says. There's a slight curve to his lips and he appears much calmer and more relaxed now than Harvey has seen him for days, and yet at the same time maybe a little bit more hopeful and excited. "Exactly what … _things_ are we going to be taking _where_?"

"I'll tell you everything later tonight," the older man promises, and then as Mike again turns to leave, Harvey leans back in his chair, catches Donna's approving grin from where she sits at her desk, and smiles.


End file.
